The word was finally spoken — diabetes. For a couple of years or so now, my much better half has been flirting with his blood sugar numbers, which have been verging on the edge of “not good.”
“Well you hit the number,” his doctor told him. “You’re right on the edge there, but the numbers don’t lie.”
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“It’s the same as being a little bit pregnant,” the doctor told him. “There’s no such thing as a little bit diabetic.”
Fortunately, his condition requires him only to regulate his diet and exercise, no medication or daily testing needed.
“Well this could be good,” said my cheerful little self. “This could be the thing that’s going to help us eat right and lose weight. We’re going to do this together.”
Counting all the carbs was the first task.
We were actually pleased to see that what we eat has not changed so much, apparently we’re pretty healthy eaters for the most part. It’s those pesky carbs that we must reign in, harness and get rid of.
Do you know how much longer grocery shopping is when you have to read every single label?
Then they must be counted when putting the meal together and finally on the plate before being served.
The magic number, so said my husband, is 75, which is the number of carbs allowed each meal.
“That means you can’t eat a salad which has been drowned in salad dressing,” I told him. “Try lemon juice and vinegar on your salad, you might like it and that will save you some carbs for something else.”
Oh we had it down to a fine art. Grilling salmon, steaming fresh vegetables and turning away from rice and potatoes.
I even replaced our usual seasoning with one more suitable to a diabetic’s diet. And through it all, I was eating right alongside of him. I only cheated once and that was a very small bowl of ice cream.
Then one evening this week, my other half spoke the dreaded words.
“I’ve lost a total of 10 pounds,” he said, with a smile that made it round the corner before he did.
I didn’t mention the fact that for the past several months I have been trying desperately to lose weight. I didn’t tell him that I climbed on the dreaded scale just the previous evening and nothing had changed. I didn’t want to burst his bubble.
“That’s really good,” I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster. “Keep up the good work and I bet you’ll have lost a lot more when you go back to see the doctor.”
Then I recalled that TV commercial that has caused a few giggles in my home. You know the one, the drawing of the husband and wife standing side by side and she is complaining about them trying to lose weight. The end result is that he winds up as skinny as a rail, while she remains the same — except for her chest (this is a family-friendly column), which has shrunk down to nothing.
The ad, of course, is for some kind of pill or liquid just for women to help them lose weight. But the reality is that like so many other things, the truth hurts.
So I just couldn’t help myself, I had to vent — just a little.
“It’s not fair,” I said.
“I’m the one who’s reading the lists.
“I’m the one who’s checking the labels.
“I’m the one who spends twice as long in the grocery store.
“I’m the one who brings home the groceries and cooks them into something edible.
“I’m the one who, although not diabetic I might add, is eating what you eat. And you’re the one who’s losing the weight.
“Where is the justice?”
I felt a little better when I got that off my chest, although I did feel kinda bad when I saw the sympathetic look on my husband’s face.
That is until the phone rang and I heard him happily announcing to whomever had called, “Guess what, I’ve lost 10 pounds.”
All bets are off. How many calories and carbs are in a glass of water?
JENNIFER E. MAY is Teche Life editor of The Daily Iberian.
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